Have You Got Maggots For Brains Then?
by jasmyn
Summary: Uncle Voldie talks to his shrink about his crush on Draco, Harry's obbession, and branding his Death Eaters. major PWP. slash, and idiocy.


**I do not own these characters. I am merely a slave to my Muse, and God, JK.**

"Have you got maggots in your brains?" 

"Good God, what have I gotten myself into? I'd run my fingers through my hair, showing signs of frustration, but I've pulled out the last 10 strands, and my scalp hurts enough." He began, staring blankly into the void of the blue mirror hanging on the wall. 

"What did I do to deserve this, honestly? Lucius promised me his son was all grown up, and thus: deathly afraid of my name, let alone myself. 

"Stinking bloody evil liar. Draco Malfoy isn't afraid of me. Not even scared. Not one bit, I tell you not one bit! I don't know what to do!" The man, formerly known as Tom, looked over at the shrink, sitting next to him. 

Tom shifted, and went to lay down on a chaise, telling Dr. Winslow about his problems with one of his kid-followers. 

"Perhaps you should tell me what happened first, Voldemort," Dr. Winslow started. "It seems to be a good idea to start at the beginning." He pulled out his blue writing pad, with a matching blue pen and sat back in his chair. His half moon blue framed glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose. 

"Yes... yes. I'll do that." muttered Tom in reply. He sat up, trying to make himself comfortable in the brightly blue painted office. Everywhere you looked, there was blue. Blue desk, walls, pictures, chairs, books, and lamps. They were all different shades of course, but it didn't matter much. Tom suddenly felt like the blue would seep off the furniture and onto his skin, turning him into a human-sized blueberry. 

It was Draco's fault that he would think that way, of course. That beautiful well-dressed bastard. 

"It all started three months ago, when I was recruiting. Our side had suffered heavy losses after the attack on the ministry, which according to my informants, were to have no idea the attack was coming. But they were prepared and fought like the devil. Fifteen of my men were killed; fifteen of them injured and fifteen more were captured. I needed reinforcements, but was unsure where to find them." 

"So, you asked your followers to hand over their kids?" Dr. Winslow asked, marking down something on his blue pad of paper. "Continue." 

"The day of their initiation, Draco Malfoy shows up 10 minutes late, claiming car trouble. I asked him why he didn't just apparate, and he replied in his smarmy voice of his, 'Driving is fun.' I used Cruciatus on him, but these kids today, are so tolerant to the old curses. He didn't even flinch. Not like back in the olden days, when someone used jelly legs, you were out for a week, let me tell you..." he trailed off. "Back to topic: I should have known then, something was up, but I was so excited about getting new flesh under me, I put it to the back of my mind, and branded him." 

"And how exactly does this branding work?" 

Tom sighed, rolled his eyes, and slouched back down into the chaise. "Branding. One usually assumes that I touch their skin with one of my scaly fingers and the Dark Mark is there, or what not. But what really happens is a secret. I can't tell you. Only my followers know the truth." 

"Ok then. Moving on." 

Neither one spoke for several seconds. Finally Riddle caved in and yelled, "Ok, ok! I give up! I can't hold it in! You dragged it out of me, but don't say I didn't warn you!" Tom took in a deep breath and admitted, "I brand my newest followers by licking the skin right above the left elbow with my tongue, and I draw the symbol of a skull and a snake crawling through it. For years, everyone just assumed that my acidic tongue was the reason I did this; and while that is partly true, it is mostly because I like the way the inside of your elbow, or anyone's elbow for that matter tastes. " 

Sitting up straight, he looked at the doctor, trying to keep his sheer joy in check. "That's right. I'm an elbow whore." He paused for dramatic effect. Tom looked up at the doctor, but saw no outward showing that Dr. Winslow cared. Disappointedly, he decided to continue on. 

"The first day with Draco in D. E. Camp wasn't that horrible. He was civil, participated in his classes, hexed the boys, screwed the girls... normal behavior. On the second day... He was late to my lecture. No one is late to my lecture. But I found I couldn't hurt him. Not because I didn't want, oh no. It was because when he walked into the dark dungeon, this beautiful white light emanated from him. He looked like a fallen angel, what with his platinum blonde hair falling into his gray eyes, a smirk on his lips. His robes were fitted to his perfect body; he was lithe and graceful, like a cat. Strong and ruthless, like me." Tom sighed, his head falling back, a gentle smile playing around his lips. "I was in love." 

"And had you ever felt this love before? How did it make you feel?" 

"No, I had never been in love before. Never had the time, what with framing people my wrong doings, and trying to take over the world. No, never had time for love. But when I felt it for the first time, my loins tightened up, and I just wanted to explode! I wanted to make Draco make me explode! I felt powerful, like I could actually win this war again! I felt strong, and I wanted Draco to know how strong I was," Tom stopped, and sighed. "I tried to win him over. I tortured the girl he was sleeping with. I killed four people he had hexed the day before. I even tried drowning his cat in the lake. But he was unimpressed. He would just look on, horrified at my actions. I didn't understand. Weeks had gone by, his behavior becoming even more disruptive and still, he wouldn't talk to me. Why didn't he want me? What did I have to do, to win his love?" His voice was low, and despondent. 

"Tell me now," Dr. Winslow said, monotone. "What did you have to do?" 

Tom continued on, not noticing the doctor had spoken. "He started kicking the trashcans, and screwing with the boys, and hexing the girls. His behavior in class was abominable. I asked for him to use the worst curse on Parkinson that he could possibly think up; he chose the contortion curse, which made her legs fly up over her head... and she wasn't wearing any... well, you get the point. It wasn't a bad thing; it didn't evoke fear into anyone, he just made them laugh. I wanted to punish him but ever time I thought about it, I thought about licking his elbow again, how sweet it tasted, and what I'd give to do it again." 

"But what did you have to do to win his love? Tell me." 

"Well... it's kind of silly." Tom started. "You might laugh at me." 

"Oh go on now. I promise I will not laugh at you," the good doctor replied, not looking up from his blue pad of paper. "I can't help you, unless you tell me everything." 

"All right then." Tom took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Well, I cornered Draco behind the bondage cabin, thinking it appropriate, I tied his hands up above his head and spread his legs wide open, so I could stand between them." Tom paused, remembering how powerful it had made him feel. With a surge of new confidence, he continued. "I asked, 'Draco, why are you being difficult? Can't you see I love you? I need you to be with me!' and he replied and that mellow, beautiful voice of his, 'This Rabbi, a Priest and a Blonde, walk into a bar...' " He sighed, shaking his head. "I'll never truly understand those jokes. What do they do, once they get into the bar?" 

"I think, sir that is beside the point" The good doctor said, smiling. Tom eyed him suspiciously. 

"Are you laughing at me, Doctor?" Voldemort demanded, standing up to his full height of 5'2, trying to look daunting. "If you are, I'll..." 

"Please, Tom, continue with your story?" The doctor asked, standing to his full 6'3. He lead Riddle back to the chaise. 

"Forgive me. I have gotten way off track." 

"What did you say, after he had made the joke?" 

Voldemort murmured to himself, trying to get his story straight. "I raised my hand back, and slapped him hard. So hard, his head nearly was ripped off his neck. I demanded to know if he felt the way for me, as I do him. His blank face, twisted into a tradmark Malfoy smirk. 'Have you got maggots for brains then?' And I stood, there, feeling stupid. It took a very long time for his words to register. He said, 'thousands of them, crawling around inside, recreating, eating you away from the inside, slowly decomposing while you stand. Can't you feel them, slinking out your ears, down into your robes, sliding around in the lower crevices of your body?' " 

"He said WHAT?!" Dr. Winslow shrieked, and chortled. "Maggots for brains! Eating you from the... coming out your... " The doctor squealed, bouncing up and down in his chair. "Ha! That's brilliant! Tell me what he said next!" The doctor insisted. "It was great, wasn't it? It topped everything I've ever heard from you, huh? Please tell me? please? You know my fascination with bugs. You'd look really good with a few maggots hanging out of your eye sockets. Please tell me what he said next?" 

"No, I don't think I should," Tom pouted in a child like manner. "You'll just laugh at me again. You hurt my feelings, and you lied to me. You promised you wouldn't laugh, and you're staining your blue silk robes by peeing on them." Tom sat on the edge of the chaise, arms crossed against his chest. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dr. Winslow apologized, hastily, his breathing coming out in small gasps. His laughter was calming down now, and was able to talk, without choking. He pulled out his wand, and cleaned himself up. Finally his breathing slowed down to his normal, somber demeanor. "Honestly, I won't do it again. Please, continue with your story," he pleaded. 

Voldemort sighed, looking very uncomfortable. Still uneasy about sharing the rest of his story, he continued on. "Well, after that, I didn't know what to do. I could have killed him. I wanted to... I even tried. But for some reason, my magic wouldn't work on him. I'm not sure why, but there it is . I had to ask, 'is there... someone else, then?' and he just stared at me. His pale white face was blank, not revealing anything he was thinking, or feeling. Now that I think of it, his face was always blank of emotion or feeling when he looked at me. no smile, or smirk. just empty eyes, and empty face. His gray eyes just bored into my squinty red ones. Then I thought about my appearance. I was maybe 5'2, 60 lbs. little more than skin and bone. My hair was thinning, and my eyes were ugly. Everything about me was ugly. My robes were old, and torn, because I had never bothered to replace them." Tom looked down at his body, insecurely. 

"And I said, 'of course you're not interested in me. Why would you be? I'm old, and decrepit and ugly. You're a young boy. You need someone who'll take care of your needs, and to be honest, I'm not sure that I can. You see, no matter how much I love you, my need will always come first, and I'm not sure you could deal with that.' I held my finger up to his lips, to keep him from speaking. His pink lips were soft, warm, and slightly moist. I said, 'no little one, do not speak. It is better for us this way. Just know that I will always love you.' His lips broke into a smile, and I had to lean forward and kiss him. His lips were soft and pliant. He didn't fight me, so I had to shove my tongue down his throat, to get some kind of reaction out of him. Finally I felt him start to gag. But then, I felt his arms come around me. One hand running through my hair, the other up and down my spine. He grabbed the back of my head, and then started kissing me back. He shoved his tongue down my throat, licking my uvula, my esophagus. My loins tightened for the 8th time that day." Tom sighed, and leaned back in his chaise. "I don't think I've ever been that hard before." 

"What happened next?" the solemn doctor asked. 

"Well... this part gets kind of embarrassing. After weeks of finally getting him to open up to me, I well... I wanted more, than just his tongue in my mouth. But I'd never had sex before, no time for it you see, so I wasn't sure what I wanted next." Tom paused, and looked out the window. The sky was blue, the grass was blue, and the buildings across the street were too. He realized there was a magical blue filter up on the window, only allowing the persons inside, to see blue. From the outside, everything looked normal in the ground-floor room. 

"Quick question, doc?" Tom asked. "Why all the blue?" 

Dr. Winslow looked up from his blue pad of paper, and cleared his throat. He shuffled around in his seat for a moment. He looked closely around the room; at the blue walls, window, pictures, books, furniture, and gasped. "What do you know! It is blue after all! All this time, I've been thinking it a mix between purple and blue and maybe even a bit of green. But you're right. It's all blue in here. Well, imagine that." Dr. Winslow gave a hearty chuckle; much different from the first time he laughed. "I don't even like blue!" 

"Um.... then, why all the blue?" 

"Mr. Riddle, we are here to talk about your shortcomings and mishaps. Not my interior decorating. Get on with it, honestly." the good doctor snapped. 

"Ok... where was I?' he paused to think for a moment. 

... 

... 

"Oh yeah! The whole sex part! Ok!" Tom giggled childishly behind his hand, then cleared his throat. His little blonde moment was over. "So I decided I wanted to have sex with Draco, but I couldn't think of a way to say it. I could have just, told him I wanted him and I was going to have him right there, right now! But, I wanted to take my time; I wanted to worship his body. But when I pulled back, to tell him this, I saw a pair of brilliant green eyes staring back at me. At first I was confused. I mean, I _was _making out with Draco, wasn't I? And Draco has gray eyes, doesn't he? So why was I staring back at green eyes? 

"I pulled back further, to get a better look at this face and realized, I wasn't kissing _Draco_; I was kissing _Harry Potter_!" Tom stopped. The drama was becoming too much. Withering in shame, he couldn't find the words to speak. Tears threatened to fall from his snake like eyes. 

The doctor stared at poor Tom. For the last 6 years ever since Voldemort had risen again, Riddle had been his patient. He knew all of Tom's dark secrets. He had even planned on writing a book about them, once Riddle was gone for good. But until then, all of this stayed between the two. 

And one thing that the **"**good doctor**"** was going to devote an entire chapter too, he was sure, was the enormous crush Tom was certain Mr. Potter had on him. Tom was convinced from the very beginning, that the boy has had a weak spot for him. That's why they met up almost every year while Harry was still in school, and the same reason that Harry was there, every time he planned to attack someone. Harry wanted him, really badly. 

"Ok then. Tell me. Were you really kissing Harry?" 

"Yes!" Tom yelled indignantly, throwing his hands up in the air. "The boy just smiled up at me, and grinned. His grin... ew gawds! It gives me the creeps! It's all, sarcastic, and evil and... ugh! I'd rather eat my own arse, than look at Harry's grin!" Tom was pacing around the room now, trying to erase the chills that surrounded him. 

"Then you know what he did? He leaned in, and he kissed me again!" Tom shuddered as he remembered, Harry's lips pressed against his, Harry's body pressed against his. "This boy, he... he... he stopped kissing me, then leaned down, so his mouth was next to my ear. He whispered, 'ooooh baby, I know you want me!' and started humping me!" Tom threw his arms around his body, trying to warm off the sudden chill. 

"Then what happened? Did Harry proceed to take your clothes off?" the good doctor asked. 

"No," Tom replied, as if that should be obvious. "I woke up." 

Dr. Winslow watched as Tom was led away in his blue straight jacket, which turned back to white as soon as he left the room. A small smile played around his lips. Shaking his head, he looked around. 

"This room isn't blue," he thought to himself. "Sometimes I really wonder what that guy's on." 


End file.
